


hustler

by minhyuk



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Office, Boss/Employee Relationship, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, Dubious Consent, M/M, Office Sex, Sexual Coercion, Teasing, gagging, mark pov but you are mark
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-23
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-13 00:08:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29642796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minhyuk/pseuds/minhyuk
Summary: You thought that after busting your ass for an internship at Neo Tech, it’d finally be smooth sailing from there. Of course it’s not. Because nothing’s ever easy for you, isn’t it.The corporate world sucks- but you swallow.(m!reader fucks with some neos)
Relationships: Lee Taeyong/Reader, Mark Lee/Lee Taeyong
Comments: 1
Kudos: 17





	hustler

You’ve aimed high your whole life and worked tirelessly to pull it off. You’ve taken your fair share of L’s, having not been born a prodigy but still learned the value of hard work- and the importance of dumb luck. On the day you landed the interview, you thanked your lucky stars that your resume made it past the parser and into HR’s lap.

Interviewing was nothing short of excruciating. Several rounds of onsite interrogating ranging from conference-style group behavioural questions, to intimate 1:1’s grilling you about your technical prowess told you exactly how competitive the role was. By lunchtime you were sweating through your suit. When you left headquarters that day, an uneasy feeling sat in your gut because _what if you blew it_.

The following week your inbox was graced with a recruiter’s contact, a message that led with _Thank you for applying to Neo Culture Technologies Inc…_. You scrolled down, holding your breath. Rejection letters these days are too damn courteous and fluffy. 

_We appreciate your time to apply and interview with us…_

Get to the point.

_We were impressed by your interview and experience…_

At least they were letting you down easy.

... _We’d like to give you an offer for the summer internship position._

Oh well, you’ll get them next- _wait_ . You blinked at your screen to read, then re-read those lines. _Is this it?_ You nearly drop your phone with your first-pump in the produce aisle, then make a bee-line for a six-pack. _Holy shit, wait ‘til Yuta hears about this_. You aren’t sure how to contain your excitement in the checkout line either.

You thought that after busting your ass for an internship at a big company like Neo Tech, it’d finally be smooth sailing from there. But of course it’s not, because nothing’s ever easy for you, isn’t it.

— 

The first time you meet Taeyong is early into the summer, and part of you didn’t expect he’d be a regular occurrence in your new day-to-day at NCT. Look, no one goes into their internship intending to butt heads with higher-ups. The goal’s to lay low, you want to be good and stroke corporate’s cock for the duration of the work term in hopes of securing a full time offer after you finish school. If everything goes to plan, maybe you could be debt-free in a matter of time as well. Knowing your luck, you fuck up.

On a normal day, it’s all eyes on Taeyong. The uppity branch manager with his own office. Part of him bleeds that intense, saccharine corporate positivity needed to survive in his role and motivate (or scare?) the division’s teams into delivering every quarter. At the beginning, you were scared of him too, avoiding his cold gaze during meetings, and bearing witness to him reprimanding your coworkers when they mistepped or underperformed. You’ve tried your best to steer clear from his path but somehow it all comes directly back to you.

It wasn’t long before it felt like you were reporting directly _to_ Taeyong. For some reason he keeps giving you incrementally more demanding tasks to do. It’s not mind-blowingly great, but it’s not bad either. It’s your job. 

“...And these need to be filed to sales by tomorrow morning.” he says, dropping a thick manila folder by your keyboard. It startles you when you look up from your monitor. Taeyong’s perching on your desk partition, arms folded.

“Think you can do that for me?” he smirks, lowering his frames to stare intently at you.

What is it, like, the fourth time he’s asked you to do something this week? You're just an intern at your summer hustle, it’s not like you can say no.

“Of course, sir.” you respond smiling gently with surrender, the way you learned through working tough shifts in retail.

“Fantastic. Knew I could count on you.” he says hurriedly, before waving dismissively and disappearing into the world beyond your cubicle partition.

You stare at your new pile of work and sigh. It’s 3. You suppose you could stay a little overtime to finish his shit and make good progress on your team’s tasks, or maybe it wouldn’t hurt to come in early tomor-

You hear footsteps again, edging closer and closer to your cube until Taeyong reappears, this time directly beside your desk. _Please don’t give me more work, I’m already busy_ , you wince, forcing your back straight and pushing out in your chair slightly. “Is something wrong?”

It takes you by surprise when Taeyong places a sympathetic hand on your shoulder. “I know I’ve put more on your plate than you’re probably used to, but it’s because I know you can do it.” You blink. His expression softens and- is that a smile? He rubs your shoulder slightly and you lean into it, in a fashion that you’d almost consider _affectionate_ but slightly awkward, like if your dad actually gave a shit and did so.

So why do your cheeks feel hot?

“It’s not every day we get a competent intern, really, you feel like a full timer. Keep up the great work.”

Admittedly, it might not be entirely fear that gets your chest tight whenever you’re near Taeyong. The man is strikingly handsome, and everyone knows it. You’ve heard it all in the lunchroom gossip, outside the women’s bathroom, and in the intern group chat. You stare up at him, feeling frozen in thought noticing his soft light hair against his sharp complexion. He couldn’t be _that_ much older than you. Could probably count on one hand how many years he’s been out of grad school. Either that or the rat race hasn’t aged him rapidly like it did your parents. 

In a perfect world, maybe you could get lunch with him and it wouldn’t be weird. God knows how many people dream of it now, but would be an impossible pursuit within company politics. Maybe you could have a real conversation as equals, instead of the boss-intern balancing act. Before his touch feels like it’d burn a hole through your shirt, you perk up.

“Thank you!” You beam, a little too loudly at first for the office. “...Thank you, I’m happy to hear that. I’ll definitely have these in for you in time, Taeyong.”

You see his brows raise slightly, having referred to him by name for the first time. For a second your throat tightens, thinking you did something wrong.

“That’s what I like to hear.” he grins, giving you a few reassuring pats before walking off again.

This time, you sit up to make sure he walks all the way out of earshot, out of the room.

You lean back in your ergonomic chair, preening from the praise. _Taeyong thinks I’m good_ , you repeat to yourself, and if it didn’t make you as excited as it did, you’d probably be embarrassed. This is definitely a good thing, right? In your few weeks here you’ve seen what happens to those on his bad side (and coincidentally never saw them again), you know he’s menacing when he needs to be. For now you aren’t exactly on thin ice, but you don’t feel completely at ease either.

Well, not being on his naughty list, if anything, would give you a good amount of buffer on his bad days or even- your eyes dilate at the thought- _career advancement_.

Before you get too lost in your postcapitalist fantasy, you get up to plant your knees on your chair backwards, and roll over to your adjacent cubicle wall to peer over at your neighbor.

You don’t even need to get his attention since Johnny’s already looking up right back at you. 

“D’you hear that?” you ask, bouncing slightly in your chair.

“Sure did, hotshot.” Johnny smiles warmly. “Look at you, already getting the attention of admin...it’s like you don’t even need me anymore.” He pulls a fake pout, before melting into laughter.

“Stop,” you giggle. “Seriously, I don’t get it either. But I don’t mind it.”

“That’s good. Many would.”

“I owe it up to you though, you showed me the ropes before I knew anything,” you explain, feeling apologetic that a lowly intern like yourself managed to earn the praise of Taeyong himself before your full-timer coworker. “I’m lucky that all my fuckups were in front of you and not anyone else..”

“So far,” he teases, and you both scramble to knock on wood.

Johnny was your designated “buddy” during your onboarding. An apt man for the role as he also couldn’t have been much older than you, if it weren’t for the fact that he towered over you. Probably signed a new grad offer here right out of school. He told you about the company’s file organization system, internal technology stack, and gave you small tasks to help you start feeling comfortable. A mentor of sorts. You definitely learned how to hold your own faster than without his help. And at times when you felt completely lost- like- not-even-Google-or-Yahoo-answers-got-you kind of lost, you felt like you could ask him anything and not feel like a total fucking buffoon. There was even that time after orientation, when your _stupid ass forgot your stupid lanyard with all your shit on it on your first day_ and Johnny came in clutch, swiping you in and out of where you needed to be, and even driving you home to your shitty student apartment at the end of that day.

As with any new gig you felt scared shitless of everything and everyone upon stepping into NCT, but you could confidently say that at the very least, you can count on Johnny. His smile could get you out of any predicament.

“Will you be out on time today? Could grab a drink before heading to the station” Johnny offers.

You turn your head to stare at the folder on your desk, untouched.

“Not today.” you decline solemnly. “Also, it’s a Wednesday.”

“Hey,” he laughs. “Don’t you have shit to do?”

You roll your eyes playfully and sink back into your chair so as to not distract each other any further. 

Cracking your knuckles and carding fingers through your hair, you make note of the time. 3:10. Just blast through these and you’ll be out of here in no time. Maybe even get to have a crack at the new FIFA with Yuta at night. You promptly open the folder.

— 

It’s 7. What the fuck. As you type your last sentence of jargon-y bullshit, you sit up, and notice that the office is completely emptied out. You didn’t even notice Johnny leaving earlier, but he probably didn’t want to disturb you as he left. Your eyes feel sore, but that’s nothing new as you’ve voluntarily signed away your prime years to decay in front of screens and spreadsheets. The files are prepared locally, and you guess all that’s really left is to hand them off tomorrow. You quickly tidy up your workspace, a half-hearted sweep of the keyboard and locking your desktop. You sling your bag over your shoulder and nudge your chair in with your hip before you’re off to the elevators.

One neat thing about NCT’s building operations is that most lights don’t go off automatically until way later at night. But in addition, new lights stay on throughout the evening. Blue, purple, greenish ones that illuminate the halls. They say it’s to discourage overtime work without completely obstructing it. But if you asked Johnny, it’s because someone’s obsessed with the idea of having the place look like a sex club after hours. Now that you’re seeing it for yourself, you start to wonder if he was joking.

You see Taeyong’s office down the hall, wrapped in frosted glass. The lights are still on which might be normal, However, you see a blurred silhouette toiling away at what is probably the large desk inside.

It must suck, you think. Taeyong, who’s feared, yet admired all the same for how hardworking he is. It does mean something to be actually _really good_ at your job and _valuable_ even if you’re arrogant.

You suddenly remember the branch’s open secret (hardly a rumor, really), of Taeyong’s managerial position being due to his father’s executive position within the company. Ah, classic nepotism. A sting of jealousy crosses your mind, wondering if maybe you wouldn’t have to live the way you currently are if daddy stepped in for you like his.

Although that might come with its own set of frustrations. Taeyong rarely seems genuinely well-rested and often like he just shot up on pure caffeine. Sometimes he feels like a volatile packet moving around the office. He must be constantly overworked so as to avoid predictable criticism from the rest of the company- I mean, that’s what everyone is probably waiting to think, yourself included.

If you weren’t so goddamn exhausted, maybe you’d knock on his door- beckon him to call it a day. But the thought is fleeting when the elevator doors part.

— 

Another day brings you to part with Yuta at the subway terminal. You wave at him as he continues his ride to the university, as he’s still on a school term while you’re working.

When you trudge to your desk Johnny’s still a quarter way through his coffee, so you reason that he’s not ready for conversation yet.

Setting down your bag, you boot up your workstation and finish where you left off. Shouldn’t take long, you don’t think Taeyong needs your work until at least another hour. The rest of the team should be finishing off their deliverables too- the company’s quarterly report needs to be compiled by the end of today.

By lunchtime you’re all set, all that needs to be done is to upload the files from your local drive to the cloud-

From your drive, to the cloud. Right. The files that you worked on overtime last night, that are on your work desktop, to the company cloud. The files that are in your home directory- no, your documents folder- the files with vital data that needs to be sent today are in _another_ different folder- no, fuck, that are magically in an external drive? No, not even-

You break into a cold sweat. _Where the fuck are they?_

Taeyong needs this report for his father, like, this is shit that the CEO sees. You suddenly think it’s not-so-awesome to be given such high-impact work. You helplessly click around on your desktop, running the numbers, how much time would you need to recreate those files from scratch? Could you do that before the end of the day? Would you keep your head, even if it’s late?

You knew Taeyong was offloading some really important work to you, the completion of the report is one of his main responsibilities, and not having your one deliverable in place fucks it up for _everyone_ , especially Taeyong.

You feel _so, so_ stupid and numb. Everything was going so well but you finally fucked up something really important. What will everyone think. What will Taeyong think.

You shut your eyes, brain marinating in your own personal layer of hell. You look over to Johnny, who’s fully absorbed into his work, airpods blasting and head bobbing, not knowing how to even _begin_ asking for help this time.

The hairs on your neck stand stiff when you hear Taeyong shriek from his glass office. It’s not long before he bursts into the room, eyes darting across cubicles for answers.

“Why,” he heaves, “is the quarterly report not done!?” he barks, before regaining slight, and I mean _slight_ composure. He straightens his tie in an effort to appear as definitely-has-it-together-Taeyong, but it’s lost again as he scrambles to each team’s lead, exploding.

Mumbles emerge across the office, everyone declaring that they’ve finished their deliverables long ahead of time. And it’s true. Even Johnny’s confused, whispering to other coworkers about what might’ve happened. Executive mix-up? Bureaucracy? Can’t be us, right- we have a track record of being on-time.

And they’re right. Everyone’s done their part on time, except for— 

“You.” Taeyong seethes through his teeth. You stay frozen facing your monitor, you’re too scared again to look. _I know, I’m sorry, I fucked up, I couldn’t find the files, I need more time, I can do it, I promise, give me until 5-_

The strangled words don’t leave your mouth as you hear him approach your cubicle. You furrow your brows, bracing yourself as to what to even say, edging your seat out.

You feel him behind you, and before you can turn around, a cutting slap hits your nape (and the rest of the room, it seems. Everyone falls dead silent).

“You,” he repeats. “Come to my office. EOD.”

His voice shakes slightly from anger. It’s not until the world’s loudest door slam that you finally raise your head, massaging the back of your neck. Your eyes threaten to sting with tears. _Fuck my life._

Your coworkers don’t spare you a second glance- not even Johnny- everyone knows you’re royally fucked. When you attempt to peer over the partition again, Johnny only meets you with a disappointed glance and a “Good luck. Tell me about it after.”

You slump defeated into your chair. You quietly work on those files you were trying to recover. It’s going to be...hard, but not impossible, you think. As you type away, you even contemplate sending your two weeks (two hours?) notice to HR- no, no not yet. You readjust your posture.

You need this fucking job.

— 

When EOD draws near, the office empties out a little faster than usual. Wouldn’t want to get in the way of your ass whooping, huh. Johnny, the last full timer, shoots you a sympathetic glance as he gets out of his seat. 

And then everyone’s gone.

You grab your bag and breathe in deeply. Nudging your chair in, you pad to his office down the hallway. The blurred shadow of Taeyong in his chair, waiting, is absolutely terrifying compared to last night.

Breathe in. Breathe out. You crack open the door, head down, and let yourself in. When you finally look up after inching yourself in front of his desk, his eyes are needles in yours, but he’s so calm. Strangely calm.

“I’m so, so sorr-”

“Shut the fuck up.” he snaps, before you can finish.

“Straight-A student huh?” he taunts. “Good interview, good references- you’re not as rare as you think.”

He- uh- Should you be offended? You hope the heat on your face isn’t as visible as it feels. It’s true, a role as coveted as yours is bound to receive tons of attractive applicants, you did chalk up your offer to a good amount of luck after all. But right now you don’t have a lot of it.

“You know,” he drawls. “You’re easily replaceable.”

Of course you know. As if the purpose of this confrontation wasn’t abundantly clear, you’re suddenly shot with horror and grief. You _need_ this job. The pay’s been enough for you to live comfortably for once and your goals finally felt like they were in sight. If you can’t pay the next term’s tuition, you’ll never finish your degree, and then you can’t make rent, and then you can’t send money home, and then, and then-

“Sir, no, no, you can’t do that.” you stutter. “I’ll make it right.”

He’s surprisingly quick to get out of his seat to lean over his desk, eye-to-eye with you. The heat of his glare is overwhelming. He eyes you like a specimen, not a person.

“You think I care?” he laughs meanly. “You think a reputable company’s fuckups don’t get dropped like flies?”

“Please don’t-”

You really, really think you can come back from this- if you do overtime, hell, if you stay overnight, you’ll recover the files by tomorrow for sure. You’re expecting to beg for your life, on your knees, grovelling to keep this position.

What you’re not expecting is for Taeyong to grab you by the collar, tearing you closer, your faces now inches apart.

You feel his breath on your lips. Minty.

“Hey. Shut up. Are you even listening?” he quietly growls, fisting your collar tighter. But his complexion softens. “... And I pegged you as smart.”

“I am listening, Sir.” You croak weakly.

“It’s not hard to find hard-working pretty things like you.”

You get it already- talented, qualified young people come a dime a dozen in the industry. _Pretty_.

If you got fired you could find your position back up and your peers would be clawing after it within a week. _Did Taeyong just call you pretty?_

Your cheeks burn, so does something else inside you, but you can’t quite place it.

He manages to inch even closer. You could go cross-eyed. “You should know by now what this is _really_ about.”

You don’t. At least… you think you don’t, and your life would be so much easier if you just don’t.

Too bad your life isn’t easy. You’re confused and scared, But mostly scared. Keeping his death grip on your shirt, he leans in further and hovers over the shell of your ear.

“I know you completed your report tasks. Good boy.” You try not to think too hard about how that makes you shudder. “But no one else does.”

You stare back, even more confused. It’s not until he parts his lapel pocket, revealing a small flash drive, that it all falls into place.

 _This piece of shit_.

“It’s unfortunate!” Taeyong snickers, “that this leaves me with the full liberty of keeping- or firing- you as I please.”

“You won’t.” There’s just no way. Is this even legal? Does that even matter? Who does he think he is?

“Oh but I _can._ What do you think?” he speaks over your face. “Does our cute intern deserve to stay?”

You’re fuming, you would have never expected Taeyong to taunt and threaten you like this, you knew he was a dick sometimes, but only professionally. He has to act in the interest of the company, how the hell does he get away with this shit?

You realize he definitely holds his own just fine. He’s smarter than you gave him credit for. He didn’t _need_ your help doing all those bullshit tasks, they weren’t even that hard. But maybe every time he offloaded random shit was just entertainment to him, the way you were at his beck and call. The stress this motherfucker has caused you.

“Why?” was all that your distress amounted to. Why all of this, _why me_.

“You know why.”

You freeze when he licks a hard stripe along the shell of your ear. He lets go of your shirt but replaces a hand on your nape, drawing circles where he hit you, keeping you locked in close.

“Like I said, it’s not everyday I see someone like _you_.” You swallow hard. “No-one will believe you.”

He rubs your neck fondly in such a way that you feel it in your gut. But your blood starts to simmer.

“You’re just too _nice_.” He punctuates the last word with a mean bite to your earlobe.

 _Ow_.

A vicious slap bounces off the glass walls. You’ve torn yourself away by lunging backwards. But when your vision refocuses, you see Taeyong keeled over his desk, one had steadying himself and the other nursing his...cheek?

Your palm is stinging. Shock envelopes you as you realize what you’ve done. _It wasn’t on purpose, I swear, I’m so sorr-_

“Come here.” he gasps, looking up immediately. He lowers his hand to reveal his reddened cheek.

You thought you were hearing things. Come again?

“Now.”

Oh you’re fucking dead for sure. You just slapped your boss.

Honestly, you should’ve ran. With an idiot play like that you should’ve known it was over, the door was right there. Just pack up and go. But since your life is a joke, you hobble closer behind his desk. He yanks you by your tie so you’re looking up at him, and it gives you whiplash. A pause. Taeyong bares his teeth, and you know he’s going to bark. You close your eyes and brace yourself, clenching your teeth the way you learned from schoolyard fights in case he lands a punch.

Instead, your lips are met with his and you flinch. You open your eyes, and holy shit, your boss is kissing you.

His tongue coaxes your pursed lips apart, and it takes a few seconds before you give in, convinced that he’s not going to completely beat your ass. You’re riddled with fear, as you’ve been the whole day, but now with curiosity. Something unravels in your stomach and it’s humiliating. A tiny dot- a smear- of a fantasy you’ve so carefully locked away the day you first laid eyes on Taeyong. 

“Wha-” you begin to protest, but the parting of your lips lets him slide his tongue into your mouth. It’s wet. It’s warm. It’s so warm and soft.

Your hands fumble, not knowing where to put them, but they settle on his shoulders. When he takes your lower lip between his teeth, you shiver and grip onto him. Taeyong’s palms end up on your waist, which you try to back out of, but he keeps you firmly in place. Fuck it, you throw your arms around his neck, giving him better access. It doesn’t take long before you’re sighing into his mouth, and he seems to hum appreciatively at it when neither of you are gasping for breath. 

If sloppily making out with your boss is step one of not getting fired, so be it.

As you kiss him your arms try finding purchase along his desk but it doesn’t feel quite right. You decide to back up a little, slow enough that Taeyong can follow, and you two must look like the least god-honouring couple at a middle school slow dance.

Eventually the back of your knees hit the couch by the wall, and you fall back onto it lying down. Taeyong simply straddles your hips like its nothing, with his knees apart. Your face is on fire- you’re completely flushed. You don’t even know where to look. You struggle between his dominating gaze and the- _god_ \- hard line in his pants, pressed against your stomach. You end up staring helplessly at a spot on the ceiling and stutter. “S-sir, I’m not sure what you’d like me to do.”

You accidentally meet his steely eyes, and immediately attempt to hide your face in the crook of your arm.

“You don’t have to do anything.” There’s a hand on your wrist, prying it away. “Just let me see you.”

He takes your other wrist and wrestles them above your head, pinning them there. With his free hand, he cups your cheek, leaning in close to inspect every inch of your features. He’s so close. Can he feel your chest beating? Look- you’ve been with men before. Fooled around starting freshman year but nothing serious, as far as most college flings go. It’s been a while, since schoolwork picked up, and _real-adulting_ became a pressing matter with graduation on the horizon. So it’s been a while since you were the recipient of this kind of attention, let alone from someone older. You adjust your hips and arms to get a feel for the restraint and yep- you definitely can’t move. And it’s thrilling, this feeling. 

You hold your breath. He smells so strongly of mint and aftershave, better than what you imagined he would smell like. He cards his fingers through your hair and trails them down your cheek, this time genuinely with care, thumbing at your lips.

Something consumes you and you take his thumb into your mouth, just enough to be daring, and you press your tongue into the pad of his finger. When you suck, Taeyong lets out a groan.

You feel his hips press down on yours when you pull off his thumb, and a sheepish moan escapes you. Before you can say anything else, his thumb is quickly replaced by his index and middle fingers, hooking them into your mouth, coaxing your jaw open. He pushes his fingers inside and they slide over your tongue, retreating briefly before coming back in, over, and over, and then, dangerously close to the back of your tongue, where you start to feel a tickle in your throat.

“ _Nnh._ ” You groan, low and cautious to protest his experimental prodding- any further and you’ll gag.

Taeyong doesn’t listen, and on the next thrust, his knuckles are practically against your teeth, forcing your jaw down. Your eyes shoot wide open and you crane your neck back into the couch cushion, coughing and gagging on your own spit. You heave, catching your breath before your lunch comes up with it. Taeyong wipes his fingers on your shirt, before grabbing your jaw, forcing you to look him in the eyes again.

“Please don’t-” you cough, tears welling your vision. “I’ll throw up.”

Taeyong dips his head down against the crook of your neck. “It’s cute.” he breathes. “Your gag reflex.”

He plants a kiss against your throat, and trails another one up to your chin. “We’ll have to work on that.”

You stare at the ceiling again, shuddering at what that could imply. His lips and teeth work at the soft skin of your throat, your head tipping back further into the cushion. You startle when you realize, “Wait- stop- no marks-”.

He huffs, but listens, returning to trailing kisses on your neck and pawing at your chest. Eventually he lets go of your wrists, but you keep them up to give him all the access he could need.

You feel him grind his ass against you again, and you moan loudly enough to clap your own hand over your mouth. “You like that?” he rumbles in your ear, low and hot. He does it again, this time tortuously slow, and you might just faint.

“Y-yes,” you gasp, nodding. “Sir.”

“Oh, keep calling me that” he coos, and reaches a hand down to rub you over your pants. You nearly squeak, a sharp _ohh_ that flutters out of you unwillingly, which has him laughing huskily. “Good boy.”

Taeyong adjusts himself, slotting a thigh between yours. You rut against it gratefully, and it’s humiliating, but all of his teasing has left you so fucking desperate for any contact. You need more, you need him to be even closer. Grabbing his shoulders you pull him back down into an open-mouthed kiss, hoping that if your hips don’t get the message across, your tongue will. You whimper sweetly into his mouth, this time it's you getting to run your fingers through his hair when you cradle the back of his head.

When Taeyong breaks away his pupils are blown. “Eager, aren’t we”, he chuckles. “Open up.”

You open your mouth obediently, and he spits in it. You swallow, eyes heavy lidded, moaning. _Fuck_ , the times you’ve wished a hookup would just _do that_ without you having to ask. If he keeps this up you’d have to confront the fact that you’d be willing to put out literally all the time.

“Hey”, you hum, pushing his chest slightly to create more room between you two. Your fingers trail down to his waist, resting on his belt. “...Can I?”

Taeyong stares down at you with his brows raised, mouth curling into a smile. Like he’s waiting for something else. _Ah_.

“ _Sir_ ,” you add. “Can I, uhm…” _Shit_ , why is it so difficult now? You swear you’ve never felt this helpless or embarrassed with anyone else.

“Use your words.” He commands. “I know you’ve got good words.”

You gulp. “Sir, can I suck your cock?” and you scream inside, like saying the classroom profanity would get you into trouble still. You glance back up nervously at Taeyong, who laughs approvingly before unbuckling himself.

The clink of the buckle and your heated breaths being the only sounds filling the silence fills you with unmatched anticipation. How did you even end up here, underneath your sexy dickhead boss, finding yourself once again in a literal position of envy for many. You can’t tell if this is even a bad thing anymore, and honestly, you don’t fucking care because Taeyong pulls out his dick and you think you’ll pass out.

 _I’m the worst_ , you think, as you realize you’re salivating. Your hand reaches-

A blaring sound, a siren? The building’s alarm? Echoes through the room and your head thrashes frantically to find the source, until you realize it’s coming from Taeyong’s jacket pocket, vibrating.

“You’re kidding,” he sighs, exasperated as he fumbles into his pocket, grabbing his phone and answering at record speed.

“Yes. Yes I’m still here… No. I’m not sure.” He says intently, brows furrowed in focus, like he isn’t on top of you with his dick out.

“Okay, sure. Wait, now?” He sounds disappointed, but not surprised. “Got it. I’ll be there in 10.”, and hangs up promptly.

It seems your romp with your boss ends as quickly as it started. With hardly a word he gets off of you and tucks himself back in, straightening his belt, shirt, and tie. 

You stare bewildered at him, like, _okay, what happens to me?_ And he hardly has a response, smiling as he ruffles your hair (...what?) before grabbing his bag. 

“I’ll call for you when I need you again. Keep your schedule open.”

“Uh- of course.” You reply. “Sir.”

He tips your chin up, making you look up at him again. “Atta boy.” He shakes you lightly by the jaw, like you’re a dog.

You watch him leave abruptly to whereverthefuck he needs to be next, without even closing his own office door.

Your whole body is still hot and tingling, fuck. Did that just really happen? When you sit up to brush yourself off you realize you’re still hard. _Dammit_.

You are _not_ reporting to Johnny about this.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading and I hope you stick around for what's next!  
> Shoutout to the friend that helped me come up with this over a year ago, you know who you are ♡


End file.
